


Devices and Desires

by Moon_Disc



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:01:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23025217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moon_Disc/pseuds/Moon_Disc
Summary: Changing times call for desperate alliances... and drastic measures. But at what price? And are certain members of theLiberatorwilling to pay it?
Relationships: Kerr Avon & Vila Restal & Jenna Stannis
Comments: 13
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1

“I agree.”

Avon looked up from what he was doing and laid the laser cutter aside on the teleport console. 

If he was surprised by her admission, he hid it well. Jenna was less sure of her reaction. Agreeing with him went against her every fibre. That it happened more often than not was something she did not care to admit. Disagreeing with him suited her. It stopped her having to acknowledge they had anything in common, probably more than either of them cared to admit.

“In general or particular?” he wanted to know. 

A slight, irritating smirk played across his lips. If anything could have changed her mind at that point, his air of smug self-satisfaction would have done it. Still, she had other considerations.

“What you said before. I agree.”

“Do you now?”

“Don’t get used to it,” she said in reply.

It had been during one of those long shifts in the night phase of the _Liberator’s_ time cycle when the subject had been raised. Halfway through, Avon had wandered in, with some vague excuse about being unable to sleep. Something had been gnawing away at him for several days, enough to make his company objectionable and his absence welcome. Jenna had ignored him and had left him to prowl and ferret away at some minor adjustment to the weapons system. 

Then, without warning, he had given voice to what was on his mind. The future. Specifically, their future in a world that would have no place for thieves and smugglers and other undesirable criminals once the dust had settled on Blake’s rebellion.

The thought had already occurred to her. As if reading her mind, Avon had toyed with her fears and given them form. Annoyingly, he had been persuasive.

She had not responded immediately. It needed consideration. Avon choosing to confide in her was not a reason for confidence. He had been looking for an ally and she had been convenient. It had been her plan to make him wait. Blake, typically, changed all that.

An offer from one of the Outer Worlds with enough influence to drag a raft of others behind it had fired his interest. The ruling body of Kybyros, already resistant to increasing Federation overtures, was proposing an alliance. It was tempting, almost too good to be true.

Kybyros, on the edge of Federation territory, had long been a refuge for the dissatisfied and dispossessed. Because of that, it had become a repository for some of the finest minds in the galaxy with wealth and technology at their disposal. Unwilling to give up their freedom, they were proposing the unimaginable: to replicate the _Liberator_ and create a fleet with the ability to destroy the Federation once and for all. 

Blake had been unable to resist. And suddenly that future which Avon had envisaged did not seem quite so distant after all.

Agreeing with him hurt, only slightly less than the scenarios of her life in a Federation-less world she had conquered up in her mind.

“When Blake does win—”

“If,” Avon interrupted her.

“ _When_ ,” she persisted firmly, “whatever takes the Federation’s place I doubt would be willing to turn a blind eye to our pasts. Blake won’t agree, but then he might not get the choice.”

He held her gaze. “It took you a long time to come to that realisation.”

“I had already thought of it. We will be...”

“Politically embarrassing.”

“Yes.” Jenna bit her lip.

Avon studied her carefully, his expression unreadable. “You have a suggestion?”

“We make provision. We take a portion of the treasure and hide it somewhere for when we need it.”

“Where?”

“Nyx. I’ve hidden goods there before. It’s safe.”

The look of speculation intensified in his eyes. “Define safe.”

“It’s uninhabited and accessible to ships without teleport.” 

As she said it, her throat seized. If the Kybyrians had their way, teleport would become available to many, except those who had it now. The irony was galling.

“Smugglers use it all the time. No one else goes there.”

Avon turned back to the dismantled console. “Then it is not safe.”

“There’s a rule on Nyx: you only take what is yours.”

A laugh escaped him. “Honour amongst thieves is an interesting notion, don’t you think?”

“Sometimes that’s all we have. That, and a weapon and the will to use it.”

The tone of her voice extinguished his humour. 

“Besides,” she went on, “I know a few hiding places on Nyx that no one else knows about.” He still looked unconvinced. “Well? Unless you have had a better offer from Kybyros.”

She said it knowing the opposite was true. It had been Blake they wanted, not second-best computer experts or superior pilots or talented thieves. Revolutionaries were welcome, criminals less so. Boltholes were becoming fewer every day.

“No,” Avon said slowly. “Nyx it is.” He caught her arm as she turned to go, the threat implicit in his action. “If you’re wrong, Jenna...”

“I have as much to lose as you do. But you knew that when you asked me. Honour amongst thieves, Avon.” She extracted herself from his grasp. “Speaking of which, what about Vila? Have you asked him?”

“That would have been unnecessary. He knows.”

“How?”

Avon nodded to the corridor. “He’s been listening.”

“Vila?” Jenna called out.

On cue, he appeared, looking worried and flustered. “I wasn’t listening!” he protested. “I can’t help it if I’m in the right place at the right time.” He scampered down the stairs. “Did I hear something about treasure? Only, if I did, you’re going to need someone to operate the teleport if you’re going down to Nyx.” Wary eyes darted over his shoulder and he lowered his voice. “I take it we’re not telling Blake?”

“No,” said Jenna. “He won’t understand. Nyx is only five hours from Kybyros. Once Blake leaves for the talks, we can get there and back before we’re missed. He need never know.”

“All right, how much?” Vila pressed.

“Half,” said Avon.

“A quarter,” Jenna countered. “Half will be missed. There should be enough in a quarter for each of us to guarantee our safety.”

“Think of it,” said Vila dreamily. “I could buy my own planet. Somewhere warm in summer and even hotter in winter. I’ve never liked being cold.” A thought struck him. “What about Gan?”

“What about him?” said Avon.

“Well, we can’t leave him out... can we?”

“Gan killed a Federation security guard,” said Jenna. “Under the new regime, he would most likely get a pardon. I can’t say the same for us. Our crimes are socially unacceptable. No one made us commit them.”

“It’s a funny old world where thieving is less respectable than murder,” Vila mused.

“Self-defence,” Jenna corrected him.

“Give him half of your share, Vila, if it concerns you,” Avon said.

Vila frowned in an effort of concentration. “Let’s see. Half of a third of a quarter... well, that’s... that’s...” Deciding the struggle was not worth the effort, he gave up. “Gan wouldn’t want a planet of his own, anyway. And he’ll tell Blake. Too honest by far is Gan.”

“Not a problem for you, I hope,” said Jenna with a knowing smile.

“No,” Vila said earnestly. “I could lie before I could talk. And I did. Frequently, so they tell me.”

“Then we’re agreed,” said Avon.

“Only on this,” said Jenna.

“This is all that matters.” Avon smiled. "For now."

* * * * * * *  
_What could possibly go wrong? Hmm, now let me see..._


	2. Chapter 2

“In light of recent Federation expansion in this sector, the Kybyrians want to move things along as quickly as possible,” Blake was saying. 

Jenna was only half-listening. With the _Liberator_ in stationary orbit around the planet, she had been monitoring the long-range detectors for any activity. This far out, any traffic, Federation or otherwise, would be a cause for concern. But so far, there had been nothing. She caught Avon’s eye and gave a small nod. The plan was on.

“They’re offering to show us around their facilities,” Blake continued. “If they can replicate the _Liberator_ , then I’m prepared to listen to what they propose.” He drew a deep breath. “Having said that, I’m not going to commit to anything straight away. Turning over the ship to them is the last thing I want to do.”

“Then don’t,” said Avon.

“It’s not as simple as that,” Blake retorted. “If they really can do what they say, we can stop the Federation in its tracks. We can beat them all the way back to Earth and end this in months, rather than years. Don’t you see, we have an opportunity to start again, to rebuild from the bottom up, to wipe out the corruption and the injustice. We can make it better, for everyone. We may never get this chance again.”

“It’s a nice thought,” said Gan sagely. “If it’s true. Do you trust them?”

Blake released a long breath that echoed his uncertainties. “That’s the problem. I don’t discount that this could be an elaborate plan to gain control of the _Liberator_ and turn it over to the Federation in return for their continued autonomy.”

“They stand to lose a great deal if the Federation gains control,” said Cally.

“Because of that, I want to maintain some distance, in case anything goes wrong. Jenna,” he called over, “anything on the long-range detectors?”

She started slightly. The thought flashed through her mind that he suspected something, only to see from his expression that the question had been a genuine one.

“No, nothing,” she confirmed, hoping she did not look as guilty as she felt.

“That’s something, I suppose,” said Blake. “Right, Cally, you’re with me. If they are concealing something, you might be able to pick up on their intentions. Avon? Your impression of their technology would be useful.”

“That might be difficult,” Avon replied. “I have a fever.”

“Do you?” Blake said. “You look all right.”

“I hide it well.”

Blake sighed. “I see. Jenna?”

She shook her head. “I’m nauseous. Something I’ve eaten. I’d prefer to stay here.”

“Very well.” Blake was becoming exasperated. “Vila then.”

Vila sprang up. “Who, me? I can’t come. I have... pain.”

“Where?” asked Cally.

Vila’s mouth opened and closed several times as he sought and failed to find an adequate answer. “It’s my...”

“Leg,” said Jenna.

“Head,” said Avon simultaneously. 

“Back,” Vila said weakly. 

Blake’s eyes narrowed. “Which is it?”

“All of them,” Vila said, quailing under his glare. “I’ve got aches and twinges everywhere. I feel like I’m one big pain today.”

“Today and everyday,” said Avon archly.

“I’ll go with you, Blake,” Gan offered, standing up. “I’m no expert, but I might notice something important.”

It was a moment before Blake answered. The pause was enough for Jenna to know he was suspicious. Vila’s dithering would put anyone on their guard. Her heart was in her mouth, expecting him to call off the mission and put an end to their plans.

“No, you should stay here, Gan,” said Blake finally. “If these three get worse, someone needs to look after the ship.”

“We can manage,” said Jenna quickly. Part of the plan had been based on the expectation that Blake would take Gan along. Leaving him onboard was going to make things difficult.

“I’d rather not take the chance.” He smiled with heartfelt concern as he said it. Jenna felt another pang of guilt at deceiving him. “We may need to leave in a hurry. Vila, do you think you bear your ‘pain’ long enough to operate the teleport?”

“Yes, yes, of course.” 

Vila started forward quickly, only to remember his alleged condition. After that, he feigned a limp and pulled a pained expression with every step. With Gan’s attention diverted as he watched them go, Jenna sidled up to Avon to avoid being overheard.

“Change of plan?”

“No,” murmured Avon.

“What did you have in mind?”

“Sabotage.”

“One of the secondary systems then, nothing vital.”

“Naturally.” Avon turned to go when Gan glanced in their direction. “Leave it to me.”

He was gone for a while. In that time, Blake had been in contact to let them know he was down and safe and all was as expected – for now. His last communication was to stay alert. As if they needed reminding, said Vila.

Five minutes after Avon returned, Zen suddenly announced that a fault had occurred with the outer teleport transducers and the problem was being analysed.

“What are the outer transducers?” asked Gan. “Are they important?”

“Only if you want to use the teleport,” said Avon.

“Blake and Cally will. Can’t the auto-repair circuits handle it?”

“The secondary particle processor is absent, causing system failure in the main power assembly,” Zen reported.

“Absent?” queried Gan. “Why would it have gone missing?”

“Why wouldn’t it?” said Vila unhelpfully. “Do you know the percentage of things the average person loses over a lifetime? And I’m not including socks.”

“Zen means absent in relation to an inability to complete the circuit,” said Avon. “Not in the physical sense. Although the result is the same.”

“I’m glad you explained that,” said Gan. “I might not know much about the teleport, but I do know things don’t go missing without good reason.”

Avon gave him a sideways glance. Gan was smiling back at him impassively. His apparent lack of guile was disarming.

“But I still don’t see,” Gan went on, “why the auto-repair circuits can’t deal with it?”

“Perhaps it’s damaged so badly it looks like it’s no longer there when in fact it is,” Vila mused. He frowned. “If you see what I mean.”

“Not really,” said Gan.

“He means damaged beyond repair.”

“Then we need a replacement.”

“The _Liberator_ does not carry spare parts.”

“Why?”

“It doesn’t need them. It has auto-repair capabilities.”

“It _didn’t_ need them, you mean.” 

“Until now.”

Gan folded his arms. “Then where are we going to get a...” He made a vague gesture.

“A secondary particle processor,” Avon finished for him. “We don’t. Fortunately the crystals that form part of the operating system are relatively common. A replacement should be sufficient.”

“Nyx would have what we need,” said Jenna, right on cue. “And it’s only five hours away.”

“That’s convenient,” said Gan. 

Too convenient, his tone implied. Jenna pretended she had not heard him.

“Zen, have the navigation computers set in a course for the planet Nyx. Standard by five.”

“Confirmed,” intoned Zen.

“Shouldn’t we tell Blake and Cally?” said Gan.

“No,” said Jenna firmly. “It might weaken their position in the negotiations if the Kybyrians think the _Liberator_ is malfunctioning.”

“I think Blake would want to know how long we’ll be gone.”

“We’ll be back before he misses us!” said Vila, giving Gan an enthusiastic pat on the back. “What he doesn’t know won’t worry him.”

“As long as we do make it back.” Gan looked unconvinced. “He wouldn’t leave us.”

“No one is leaving him, Gan,” said Jenna. 

She gave Avon a pointed look. He refused to meet her gaze.

“I’ll need to make a temporary repair,” he announced instead. “We will have to go down to the surface of Nyx to harvest the crystals.”

“Do you need help?” Gan asked.

“I’ll do it,” said Jenna. “I need a break. Gan, can you take over?”

Leaving her station, she hurried after Avon. She caught up with him in the corridor heading back to the teleport.

“Do you want to tell me how you did that?” she said.

Avon kept walking and opened his hand to reveal a small amber crystal in his palm. “I removed it.”

“Aren’t the transducers outside?”

“The processors are not.”

“Avon.” She speeded up and stopped in front of him, forcing him to come to an abrupt halt. “We are doing the right thing, aren’t we?”

His tone of voice suggested boredom at retreading old ground coupled with a reproof that she should have known better than to ask. “It’s a little late to be worrying about that.”

He tried to side-step her, but she was faster. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“How confident are you that you can change Blake’s mind?” he returned. “This opportunity may never present itself again. He’d be a fool to turn it down, if it’s genuine.” He held her gaze, his eyes lit with some inner fervour. “What role do you think we will have in this ‘brave new world’ of his?”

“I know.” That severe logic of his was speaking to her inner doubts again. “I don’t like lying to him, that’s all.”

“Get used to it.” He deliberately pushed past her, making her take a step back to get out of his way. “The next time your conscience is giving you trouble, Jenna, you might want to look up the penalty for smuggling under the Kybyrian penal code.”

“What is it?” she called after him.

“Summary execution.” His answer echoed along the bright walls. “Now let’s get on with it.”


	3. Chapter 3

Jenna was waiting in the teleport section when the sound of hurried footsteps heralded Avon’s arrival. He appeared, a large red and white storage box in one hand and a respirator in the other. His slightly off-balance posture gave her a good indication as to what the box contained. Following on behind, Vila was struggling along, pained of expression and complaining bitterly with each difficult step.

Leaving Avon to divide up the treasure while she piloted the ship to their destination had been a gamble. She had mitigated the risk by insisting that Vila help him. Avon had grudgingly agreed, resentful of the forced intrusion, but understanding of the motive behind it. A witness, even one that was less than impartial, was better than nothing. And finally, after an uneventful journey to Nyx and standard orbit established, it was time to execute the plan.

Even so, Jenna found herself holding back. It felt like a betrayal, however sound the reasoning. If Blake ever found out, trust would be gone forever. 

And then there was Gan. Trusting, honest Gan, who had assured her he could manage the ship in their absence and looked as though he knew a good deal more than he was telling. Deceiving him did not sit well with her conscience. But neither did the bleak picture Avon had painted of their future.

“You’ve done it?” Jenna asked, taking a steadying breath.

“What do you think these are?” Vila said. The boxes landed with a resounding thud when he dropped them. “That’s a relief. I’m sure my arms are five inches longer.”

Avon ignored him and opened the lid of one box. The contents sparkled and winked in the harsh light. Rubies the colour of blood, sapphires as blue as the deepest of Earth’s oceans, the green of emeralds like a glimpse of into the heart of a forest. A small fortune, or a large one, depending on your circumstances, Jenna thought. Enough to buy a ship of her own one day and get as far away from talk of Federations and rebellions as possible.

“Exactly as we agreed,” Avon said. “A quarter shared three ways.”

“You don’t mind if I check,” she replied. 

If there was no such thing as an honest man, then an honest thief was even rarer. Vila would have kept Avon’s less generous tendencies in check, but she would not have put it past them to have come to a separate understanding where she was concerned.

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t,” he said.

She delved her hand inside, lifting up a cascade of gold and silver trinkets that dribbled through her fingers like molten liquid. An old smuggler’s trick had been to leave a thin layer of jewels on top of worthless packing, just enough to convince the unwary that the box was full. Probing all the way to the bottom, her fingertips touched the faceted edges of large diamonds and she drew one out to check. Fire flashed within as she held it up to the light.

“Satisfied?” Avon said.

“I will be, when I see yours.”

He seemed to find it amusing, she noted, as he opened the lid to show her the contents. Vila followed suit, revealing the same mix of brightly-coloured trinkets. Jenna nodded her approval.

“How will we identify which is ours?” she asked.

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Vila spoke up. He extract a squat silver cylinder-shaped object from his pocket and held it up with pride. “Now, this may be a work of a genius―”

“If it is,” Avon interrupted, “let’s hope he doesn’t miss it.”

“Very funny,” Vila retorted. “It’s something I’ve been working on. Keeps the old brain active.” He gave Avon a wary look before continuing, expecting, but not receiving, the usual retort. “It’s a cunning device. It’s a trans-cyclical semi-rotational automatic multi-selectional combination lock.”

“That sounds like a random assortment of words,” said Jenna, unimpressed. “What does it do?”

“Ah well, that’s the clever bit.” Vila pressed either end of the cylinder and a series of lights flashed beneath the smooth surface. “What you have to do is to enter your own personal code sequence to make the lock open. If you get it wrong...” He pulled a face. “Let’s say it’s better not to get it wrong. It’s got a nasty kick.”

Jenna took it from Vila’s hand and gave it a cursory inspection. “What charge did you use?”

Vila squirmed slightly. “Trestalotan.”

“Tresta―” She quickly passed it back to him. “That’s highly unstable.”

“It’s all I could get!” he protested. “It’s not easy getting supplies in the middle of nowhere. I pick up what I can along the way. Anyway, it works. As long as you enter the correct code.”

“And if you don’t?”

“It blows your head off.” Vila shrugged unconcernedly. “But that won’t happen because we won’t have any reason to go looking in anyone else’s box. Right?”

“So much for trust,” said Jenna.

“It’s over-rated.” Avon slammed down the lid of his box. Vila passed him a lock and he secured it in place. “Let’s get on with it. Where’s Gan?”

“I’m here,” came his voice from the corridor. Gan appeared round the corner a moment later. “Didn’t mean to keep you waiting. Zen had to adjust the orbit.”

“There’s a problem?” asked Jenna.

“Not any more,” he replied, taking a seat behind the teleport console. “Something about volcanic activity on Nyx.”

“Volcanos?!” Vila blurted. “No one told me it was going to be hot.”

“It isn’t,” said Jenna. “Not where we are going. Best take a respirator though. It’s a breathable atmosphere, but there may be toxic gases. Can you handle it, Gan?”

“Zen has everything under control,” he said calmly. His eye fell on the three storage boxes. “That’s a lot of equipment for a couple of little crystals.”

“Finding them is easy,” Jenna explained, slipping a torch into her pocket. “Getting to them, that’s the difficult part.”

“I see,” Gan said thoughtfully. “If it’s heavy work that’s involved, wouldn’t it be better if I came with you? Vila can stay here.”

“No!” Vila said hastily. “It needs a delicate touch. They’re fragile.” He managed a weak smile. “And you know what I’m like with Zen, Gan. I’d rather be down there than up here.”

“On a volcanic planet?” Gan said with a laugh. “You’ve changed, Vila.”

“I know,” he said miserably.

“You’ve got the co-ordinates?” Avon said.

“Already programmed in,” said Jenna. “We won’t be long, Gan.”

“Best not,” he replied. “I don’t like being away from Blake from this long.”

“You get used to it,” said Avon, stepping onto the teleport platform. “Put us down.”

The Liberator shimmered out of sight and gave way to a nightmarish landscape, tangled with peaks and crevices. Overhead, thunder rattled amongst glowering clouds, streaking the graphite sky with brilliant shocks of white as lightning cut crazy zig-zags down to the earth. Far in the distance, the crest of a lava-encrusted vent sat gently smouldering, brooding over the land, silent until a time of its own devising.

Vila shrugged a little deeper into his coat, as though the layers of fabric would protect him should the volcano show its teeth. “This is safe, is it?”

“It is where we’re going,” said Jenna.

“The Federation didn’t think so,” said Avon. “You are sure about this, Jenna?”

“Several generations of smugglers can’t be wrong,” she returned. “Don’t you trust me?”

“Only where money is concerned.”

She scoffed at his scepticism. “Then follow me.”

Picking her way through scattered stones and boulders, Jenna headed towards the shelter of a sheer cliff, where a round opening had been bored into the rock face. She paused at the entrance and let the light of her torch play around the interior.

“The Federation started this,” she explained. “Pirates finished it off.”

She started down the tunnel, Avon behind her and Vila bringing up the rear, his complaints about having to carry her box as well as his own echoing off the walls. Deeper into a maze of caverns, with the thin light cutting through the dusty gloom, Jenna led the way through a series of artificial chambers, each with niches cut into the bedrock. Here and there could the glimpsed sizeable trunks and cases, left by raiders and smugglers. The quantity still in position told of the working agreement that made Nyx a successful hiding place.

In another small chamber set down a side tunnel, someone had not observed etiquette. Cases had been dragged from their holes and tumbled to the floor. Vila brushed a layer of red dust from the nearest and studied the faded inscription on the top. 

“‘Property of Mad Marcus’,” he read out loud. “‘Touch this and you die, and it will hurt while you are dying’.” He straightened up. “Can’t say fairer than that. Who is Mad Marcus?”

“A warlord in Sector Four,” said Jenna. “I’ve carried cargo for him before.”

“Did it involve wine, women and song?” Vila asked brightly.

Jenna gave him a withering look. “Peaches.”

“Peaches?! Who wants peaches?”

“Marcus did. These were the real ones, worth a small fortune.”

“Did?” said Vila. “He’s not mad any more then?”

Jenna shook her head. “Choked on a peach stone.”

Behind his mask, Vila’s brows rose. “See, what did I always tell you? This raw stuff is bad for you. Give me processed food any day, when it’s had all the nasty bits taken out of it.” A sly look came into his eye. “So if he’s no longer with us, he won’t be needing his box then.”

Avon caught his grasping hands. “You read the label, Vila. Don’t touch.”

“Ah, yes, right,” said Vila soberly. “I don’t fancy dying. Or hurting, come to that.”

“That will be the least of your worries,” said Avon. “Look at that.”

He gestured to the roof where a large crack had split the rock.

“It could have been there since they blasted the cavern out,” said Jenna.

“Maybe,” he answered. “Something made these boxes fall down though.”

“Speaking of falling down,” said Vila wearily, “I need a rest. Are we staying here or not?” He fiddled with his respirator. “It’s hot down here. I can hardly breathe.”

“Leave it alone,” said Avon.

“I’m suffocating,” Vila protested. With that, he pulled the mask from his face and took a deep breath. “Ah, that’s better. See, it’s safe.” With that, his eyes rolled and he went straight down, unconscious.

“Fool,” Avon muttered, as he replaced the respirator over Vila’s face.

“I did warn him,” said Jenna.

“He’ll survive,” said Avon, propping him up against the nearest rocks. “Are we going further?”

“No, this will do.” As she said it, she felt a slight quiver run up her legs. Earth tremors were not usual on Nyx, but this had been stronger than she had anticipated. “Secure the boxes together. We don’t want them getting separated.”

Avon cast about, finally locating a rusting cable abandoned by a previous visitor. As he set to work roping the boxes together through the handles, a low rumble reverberated through the tunnels. The floor suddenly lurched, shaking rubble and the remaining cases from the make-shift shelves. A shower of stones rained from the roof as Jenna half-ran, half-stumbled to the wall to take cover. The cracks split in every direction, tearing through every surface and ripping open the floor. Avon vanished in a cloud of rising red dust and only his returning voice to her call reassured her that he was still there. 

She was about to go to him when she caught something moving out of the side of her eye. Still slumped on the floor, Vila was toppling sideways towards the chasm that had opened up through the centre of the chamber. She ran to him, grabbing him under his arms as the ground gave way beneath him and his legs swung free over the abyss. Lava boiled in the depths below, spitting hungry flame skywards towards Vila’s feet. Even as Jenna struggled to get a grip on the loose scree, his boots began to smoke and she found herself being dragged by his weight towards the edge.

“Avon!” she called over her shoulder. “Help me! He’s falling.”

She could just make him out through the settling dust, coated in red grime, feet braced against a rock, fighting his own battle with the cable. Its free end was stretched across the ground, snaking down into the chasm as it bit into the cliff edge.

“Hold him!” he called back. “I’m almost there.”

“Avon, I can’t.” The fabric of Vila’s coat was sliding inch by inch from her fingers until all she had in her hands was his hood. “He’s slipping. I’m losing him.”

With an exasperated glance in her direction, he tugged against the weight of the dangling boxes and secured the remaining length of cable around a rocky outcrop. He raced across, sliding down beside her to grab Vila under one arm just in time as the stitching on the hood ripped away. Heaving him up, Avon almost had him over the edge when the ground shook again. Jenna gripped Vila’s belt and held him fast. On the other side of the cavern, the rocks gave way, the cable slithered away and the boxes plummeted downwards.

With a final effort, Avon hauled Vila to safety and glanced over the edge. “There they are,” he said, pointing. Perched precariously on a ledge halfway down, the boxes lingered for a moment before falling again. Smashing against the wall, they exploded in a blinding white flash before being engulfed in the fast-flowing molten river.

Jenna released an uneven breath. “How much―”

“I’d rather not think about it,” said Avon.

“Well, it’s only money.”

Avon gave her a deprecating look. “That is what people say who don’t have any.”

He sat up and rolled Vila over. Still unconscious, he was slightly singed but otherwise unharmed. Jenna watched him as he patted out a smouldering patch on Vila’s leg, trying to read his expression. Whatever was passing through his mind was well-hidden.

“You could have let him fall,” she remarked.

“Then we would have had to explain his absence to Blake.”

“I can’t see that worrying you too much.”

A fleeting smile left its imprint in the dust around his mouth. “Yes, well, Vila has his uses,” Avon said off-handedly. “And we have more treasure. There will be another opportunity.” He rose and offered Jenna his hand. As conciliatory gestures went, it was all she was going to get. She accepted and he hauled her to her feet. “But next time, if you don’t mind,” he added, “I will chose the location.”


	4. Chapter 4

“So what you’re saying,” Vila was persisting much to Avon’s irritation, “it’s not your fault for not saving our money or Jenna’s fault for not helping you, but it’s _my_ fault for passing out.” He frowned. “How does that work?”

A short spell in the _Liberator’s_ medical unit had soon restored Vila to health. Explaining to Gan why they had had to drag him back onto the ship unconscious had not required any invention. His next question about the whereabouts of the boxes had been easy enough to deflect; the dubious expression on his face told of how convincing he thought their explanation. He had said nothing, certainly not before Avon, although Jenna suspected he was eager to get something off his mind.

“It _is_ your fault,” Avon reiterated tersely. 

His attention was focused on the minor adjustments he was making to the secondary teleport systems rather than Vila, although the sting was just as severe. Replacing the missing crystal had placated the auto-repair systems but not Zen, who had refused to confirm that all systems were functioning normally until Avon had corrected the extent of his sabotage. 

“You were told not to remove your mask,” he went on. “If we hadn’t been picking you up off the floor, we could have concentrated on the boxes.”

Vila eyed him warily. Not telling him what had actually happened on Nyx had been Avon’s choice. Jenna had not contradicted him. Avon had his reasons, she decided, whatever they were.

“Never mind, there’s more where that came from,” Vila said, brightening. “We can try again.” He hesitated and glanced from one to the other of them. “We are going to try again, aren’t we?”

Avon did not look up. They had had this discussion in Vila’s absence. Sensing he was in no mood to retread old ground, Jenna answered for him.

“As soon as the opportunity presents itself,” she said. “Nothing’s changed, Vila.”

That was almost true. An hour from Kybyros, the _Liberator_ had received a message from Blake, in one breath wanting to be brought up immediately and in the next demanding to know why they were no longer in fixed orbit. Any plans for another attempt at finding a hiding place would have to wait.

Vila gave this some thought. “What do you think happened down there?” he wondered out loud.

“I’m sure Blake will tell us,” Avon grunted, setting his tool aside. “There, done.”

The intercom chimed. Gan, informing them they were fast approaching the planet and what did they want him to do about it. Jenna replied that she was on her way.

“You will bring them up, won’t you?” she said to Avon before leaving.

He took it in the manner it was meant. “Do I have a choice?”

“I’ll do it,” Vila interjected. “We are sticking to our story?”

“The virtue of telling the truth is that it does not require you to have good memory,” Avon replied.

“Ah, but that’s not the truth, is it? Well, not all of it, anyhow.”

“There was a problem with the teleport, we went to Nyx, now we’re back,” said Jenna. “Keep it simple, Vila.”

Returning to the flight deck, it was to find an image of blue-green Kybyros filling the main screen and Gan staring up at it, seemingly lost in thought.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” he said, half-turning to acknowledge her presence. “Must be nice down there.”

“Yes, I’m sure it is,” she replied, positioning herself at her console. “Let’s hope the people who live there were equally appealing.”

Gan grunted a laugh. “I doubt it. Blake didn’t sound too pleased.”

He was right about that, Jenna thought. If his message had been anything to go by, then the delay was unlikely to have improved his mood.

“Are you going to tell him?” Gan said suddenly.

He had settled himself on the forward seating. Apparently more interested in the drink he was holding, Jenna thought she had detected an edge to his question.

“We had a problem with the ship,” she said. “Blake will understand.”

“I’m sure he will,” Gan said into his glass. “What about the rest of it?”

Jenna hesitated. Gan was looking straight at her now. There was understanding in his eyes rather than accusation.

“How much do you know?” she asked cautiously.

“Oh, I think I’ve worked out what was going on,” he said. “I might not be as clever as Avon or skilled like Vila or able to pilot the _Liberator_ like you, but I’m not blind, Jenna. Those boxes came from the strong room, didn’t they?” There was more genuine honesty in his smile than she had seen for a long time. “If there’s one thing I do understand, it’s fear.”

“It’s not fear, Gan, it’s―”

“Not knowing what the future holds,” he finished for her. “I don’t pretend to be able to predict what’s going to happen days or even years from now. I can only base my decisions on what I do know, and I know Blake. You can trust him, Jenna. He will always do his best for us.”

“I wish I had your confidence.” And confident he certainly was, thought Jenna. From experience, people with damaging information never wasted an opportunity to exploit their advantage. What would be the price of his silence, she wondered? “Will you tell him?”

He shook his head. “It’s not my secret to tell. Will you?”

“No.” She felt the tension release from her body on a long, uneasy breath. All her earlier misgivings rose in reproachful unison. “Better that he never knows.”

“Well, he won’t hear it from me.”

She gave him a grateful smile as she reached across to answer the insistent call of the intercom. Vila’s garbled message was along the lines that Blake was back on board and not very happy about the situation. No sooner had he finished speaking than voices could be heard fast approaching the flight deck, Blake’s loud above them, taut with anger.

“You were told to stay in orbit in case we needed to leave in a hurry,” he was saying as he burst onto the flight deck, red in the face and eyes blazing. Avon was following in his wake with Cally trailing behind, keeping silent. “That’s all I asked.”

“And as I explained, the teleport developed a fault,” Avon retorted. “What did you expect us to do?”

“It couldn’t have been that urgent if you used the teleport to get what you needed,” Blake shot back.

Avon remained impassive in the face of this hostility. “It was only a secondary system.”

“It had to be done,” Gan spoke up. “If the primaries had failed too, the teleport would have been inoperable. Isn’t that right, Avon?”

Another voice adding to the argument seemed to dampen the fire from Blake’s anger. “Yes,” he said with a sigh. “Yes, of course it is. I’m sorry. You did the right thing. The delay was... inconvenient, that’s all. Jenna, get us out of here.”

“To where?”

_“Anywhere.”_ When he spoke again, he had exorcised the exasperation from his voice. “Standard by twelve.” He smiled in her direction. “Or faster if you can manage it.”

“I’ll do what I can.”

He strode away. Cally watched his progress and continued to stare in the direction he had gone long after he had vanished until Vila appeared and banished the spell.

“What was all that about?” he wanted to know. “What went on down there?”

“The negotiations broke down,” said Cally simply.

“Why?” Avon asked.

“The Kybyrians made certain demands that Blake would not accept.”

“What sort of demands?”

Arms folded, he had positioned himself in front of her. Cally skirted around him and accepted the drink Gan offered.

“Cally,” Avon said, more firmly this time. “What demands?”

“I am sure Blake will tell you.”

“Undoubtedly. Until then, I’m asking you.”

Cally struggled for a moment with her conscience before relenting. “Very well, Avon. If you must know, they objected to you. And to you, Jenna, and you, Vila. They objected to all of us. They said Blake should distance himself from convicted criminals if he wanted to gain credibility.”

Jenna caught Avon’s eye. There was that look again, coupled with the smug, superior attitude he had cultivated to perfection. She had never doubted he was right. It was the outcome that was in question.

“Hey, that’s not fair,” Vila protested. “Criminal I might be, but I was only convicted on a technicality.”

“Oh?” said Gan. “What was the technicality?”

“I was caught red-handed.”

“Shut up, Vila,” said Avon. “What else, Cally?”

“They said justice should be seen to be done with immediate effect,” she went on. “They said it was necessary to show Blake’s commitment to the rule of law. He said no. He said he could not betray the trust of people who had helped him.” She paused and looked from one to another of them. “He said he would not compromise with the lives of his friends.”

The long silence that persisted after Cally excused herself was broken only when Gan got to his feet and cleared his throat.

“Well, that’s good news, isn’t it? Blake took our side.”

“For now,” said Avon.

“He turned down the chance of having a fleet of _Liberators_ for us,” said Gan reasonably. “I doubt he’ll get another offer like that again.”

“Possibly. Whoever created this ship must be out there somewhere. What if next time he is not in a position to refuse?”

“Until we meet them, we won’t know,” Gan countered. “And we don’t know that we will meet them. Even you don’t know that, Avon, not for certain.” He came to rest just close enough to him to be intimidating both in height and breadth. Avon gave him a cursory, dismissive glance before looking away. “I say let’s not worry about it until it happens.”

“And what happens when it happens, happens?” Vila’s brow screwed into tight lines. “Does that make sense?”

“Blake will take our side, just like now,” said Gan.

“Are you willing to bet your life on that?” said Avon.

“I do, every day.”

As answers went, it was unequivocal. Whatever was on Avon’s mind went unsaid, as he thought better of replying. Only when Gan had left the flight deck did he give vent to his thoughts.

“There’s nothing quite like blind faith,” he said sardonically, taking a seat. “It is guaranteed to get you killed, every time.”

“I don’t know,” said Vila unhappily, dropping down onto the seating opposite him. “Does anyone else feel bad about what we did?”

“No,” Avon retorted. “Our heads would be pickled in jars by now if Blake had said yes. Which would be an improvement in your case, Vila.”

He frowned. “Well, put like that...”

“Blake didn’t say yes,” said Jenna.

“He didn’t have to,” said Avon, glancing over at her. “For the present, the situation is moving in our favour. What happens a year from now when events are not so favourable, when we are losing, when one or two of us have died? Will his principles be so unshakeable then?”

Jenna held his gaze defiantly. “You don’t know that.”

“You sound like Gan. Personally, I object to being sacrificed for someone else’s revolution.”

“I’m not mad about the idea either,” said Vila.

“Then we try again.” He let the thought linger. “Jenna?”

She paused long enough to make him turn in her direction. “I’ll think about it.”

It was all she was prepared to give him. With the discussion over, Avon got up and left, making no attempt to disguise his disgust. Vila fidgeted for a while and made an excuse to follow him. Off to make their own plans, Jenna decided. She did not blame them for their caution nor would she stop them. Fear, as Gan had said, affected everyone in different ways. Avon was wrong about Gan’s blind faith, she thought. It was anything but blind, and based on the evidence of his own immediate experience. 

By contrast, her own past experience had blinded her to the present. Blake had given up an opportunity of a lifetime to defeat the Federation for people he had known for a relatively short while. She questioned whether she would have done the same for people she had known for years. That deserved something, she decided. Like trusting what she knew rather than what she feared. Like not leaving Blake to find himself abandoned again while they went off to secure a future for themselves that might never happen. 

For that reason, she would not be participating in whatever Avon and Vila might be planning. Because, if an intelligent man could adapt, as Avon was fond of telling them, then so could a skilled woman. Whatever the future might hold, there were other ways of preparing for it without indulging fears and desires at the expense of a friend. She might not live long enough to realise them, but at least her conscience would be clear.

**The End**


End file.
